But it’s like I’m colliding with a wall.
A fucking unmovable fortress.
He even compresses his fingers until I’m sure he’ll snap my head from my neck.
“The running away option wasn’t on the menu, now, was it?” His voice sounds far away and mingles with the ringing in my ears. And if I’m not mistaken, it’s deepened, lowered, turning a darker shade of black.
Way worse than the colorless night.
Even his dim eyes have become desolate—worse than any hue I could picture.
At this moment, he’s nothing short of a predator.
A callous, cold-blooded monster.
“P-please…” I croak, and it echoes like a haunting ghost song in the night surrounding us.
I can’t even pray that some passerby will find us. After all, Devlin chose this place because it’s isolated.
Devlin and I chose this place.
Who thought we’d experience such different yet tragic fates in it?
“Please?” he drawls the word, as if testing how it sounds on his lips.
I try to bob my head, but it’s impossible with his hold on my neck.
“Please use your lips or please use your cunt and ass?” He pauses, then pushes me backward until my upper half is tilted in the cliff’s direction. “Or please turn you into a masterpiece?”
Choked noises leave my lips, sounding more animalistic than human.
It’s that escalation again—the reminder that this is a power play and if I keep fighting, he’ll simply make this way more horrendous than I can possibly imagine.
No matter how hard I struggle, the inhumane stranger seems oblivious to it. In fact, he lifts a shoulder manically, like a damn criminal who feels no remorse whatsoever for his crimes.
“If you don’t choose, I’ll do it for you—”
“Lips,” I strain, unsure of how I manage to get the word out.
I’m not even sure how the hell I’m still conscious, considering the raw power he’s holding me with.
It’s only after the word leaves my mouth that he slowly eases the brute force of his fingers from around my neck. But he doesn’t release me and continues imprisoning my whole being in front of him.
I inhale a copious amount of air, my lungs filling with oxygen to the point of feeling burned, caught in a chokehold and stabbed in the chest.
He raises a thick eyebrow, appearing beautiful, gorgeous even, but it’s the type of beauty that notorious serial killers use to lure their victims. I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he kills for sport.
And that’s definitely the wrong thought to have under the circumstances.
It’s insane how I’ve often thought about death but when push comes to shove, I’m terrified of it.
The stranger from hell slides his thumb against my upper lip, sensually, almost lovingly, and it’s even more frightening. Because from the way he’s behaved and talked, I’m almost sure there’s not a gentle bone in his body.
“You’ll let me stuff my cock between these lips and fill your throat with my cum?”
My neck heats since I’m not used to being spoken to this way, but I lift my chin. “I’m not doing it because I want to. I’m doing it because you’re threatening me with worse. If it were up to me, I would’ve never let you touch me, you sick bastard.”
“Good thing it’s not up to you.” Still keeping his hand around my throat, he slides down his zipper with his free hand, the sound eerier than the crushing of the waves and the whooshing of the wind.